


The Unimaginable

by SweetestSounds



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 21:31:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10317404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetestSounds/pseuds/SweetestSounds
Summary: In which the World Is Turned Upside Down on the Washington Family when their foster child Alexander Hamilton is taken away to live with a distant relative in New York State.A different kind of Foster Care AU





	1. There Are Moments When The Words Don't Reach

* * *

 

 _"There are_ _moments where the words don’t reach"_

_The Unimaginable_

_Hamilton:An American Musical_

* * *

“I know that this all appears to be happening rather fast, but please understand that transitions like this are never easy for anyone involved. Especially for the children. We find that some take change harder than others, and Al being as he is…”

“How he is?” George said swallowing back the lump in his throat. His voice holding anger despite the overwhelming grief curling in his chest.

“He is a flight risk General Washington; a fact I know you are well aware of.” Mr. Jay said his voice flat and indifferent.  

“Last month was,” George began once again rising to Alexander’s defense despite the fact Jay was not rising to his bait.

“This has nothing to do with December.” Jay shook his head and looked up at George eyes his gaze unemotional. Jay was what Alexander considered the worse type of social worker, the kind that saw numbers and policies before the children he was meant to protect. When George first met him he had attempted to reserve judgment but with each subsequent meeting the man's cold indifference set George on edge.

“I apologize sir, I know last few months have been difficult, for you. I understand. But please be rational,”

“Have you ever lost a child Mr. Jay,” George asked as he sat behind his desk staring anywhere but the pasty pale face of the man who sat across from him.

“No, General Washington. I can’t say I have had the misfortune.” Mr. Jay said as his face fell, as the man spoke George heard the sound of the hounds greeting his son at the edge of the green.

“Excuse me, sir.” He said stopping the social worker mid-sentence, knowing he had to get out of the situation before his temper resulted in him losing control. Jay offered only a raised eyebrow so George motioned to the closed door in explanation.  

George walked into the main foyer of the house and opened the heavy wood door lowering his gaze to where Alexander stood staring stoically at the car parked in front of the porch. Though Alexander had not been in that car more than twice he still recognized it and could infer what its presence meant.

It meant his social worker was here for a visit.

And, more often than not, it meant that Alexander was moving yet again.

As Alexander looked up and caught the gaze of his foster father the man's recent promises about never letting him go replayed themselves in his head and felt like a smack in the face.

He had thought on it a lot, on how much he wanted to be here. Of how he wanted a family that would never let him go. A home he was always welcome in even when he messed up. Having a family with the General and Doctor Martha and Gilbert. But those dreams were too far a reach, and the world was not in the business of granting Alexander anything but turmoil.

He was stupid for believing this place could possibly be different.

He felt his blood boil in self righteousness. Who was the General to promise for ever only to toss him out like trash a week later? Who was he to make Alexander feel safe only to pull out the rug the second he had the advantage.

He snapped his gaze up to the front porch ready to explode when he caught sight of the grief reflected in the General’s gaze. At the sight of the man's placid expression, red rimmed eyes, shirt wrinkled where he had tugged it from his trousers, and undone tie the fight drained from Alexander just as quickly as it had rushed in.

“General,” Alexander said his voice holding on to false bravado as he tried to put on a front, as if the sight of his social worker’s car did not phase him.

“Come inside.” George’s breathed, his voice had lost its strength and now just sounded dejected. Alexander’s eyes became wet, his breathing hitched visibly as George heard the heavy footsteps of Mr. Jay stepping into the doorway behind him. His eyes darted to the barn trail his body tense and ready to run with a moment notice.

“Why?”

“Come inside Alexander.” George said forcing strength behind the words as he spoke. Alexander’s gaze snapped back to him and with hunched shoulders the teenager slowly obeyed. George fought the urge to toss his arms over Alexander’s shoulder as he walked into the house. To offer the boy physical comfort where his words failed. Yet, even as the teen eyed George he felt the grief coiling in his chest increase ten fold. Mr. Jay led them both back into the office. George standing against the door as Mr. Jay and Alexander took a seat on the couch that sat near the bookshelf on the far side of the room. A newer addition to his study, added only after Alexander ended up spending long nights in the room buried in one old law book or the next until he slumped over in sleep. The memory was fresh and George felt bile rising in his throat. The wound of losing Jack was still gaping and now Mr. Jay and the previously absent and still nameless cousin were taking a scalpel and scraping the inside of it with little to no care.

“I have great news Al,” Mr. Jay said finally breaking the weighted silence with false positivity.

“Is J.J coming?” Alexander guessed lighting up for the briefest of seconds. Eyes snapping to George with the type of childish excitement that Alexander's life had brutally stripped away from him all too quickly.

“No, not exactly, your brother is still…”Mr. Jay said too quickly the word incarcerated laying on the tip  of his tongue before he re-assessed and offered the word  “indisposed” in its place.  The wonder that had taken over Alexander’s gaze so quickly moments before dissipated just as suddenly.

“But your mother’s cousin, Peter Levine, called the office earlier this week. He saw your name in the _article.._." Jay began and Alexander jolted upward. 

"Nothing in that article was true. Jefferson and Madison were," Alexander startled, speaking over Jay, defending himself for hundredth time against the slander that had somehow made its way onto the school's facebook page about Alexanders past and status as an immigrant within the country then was subsequently broadcasted though out the site.

"He called the office having traced you back here. He is living in New York and he would like you to move in with him permanently like your mother had requested before her death.” Jay said and Alexander stiffed eyes tracking back to where the General stood. His eyes wide waiting for an interjection, a promise that this new placement was an option and not an order.

“Mum never mentioned him.” Alexander argued turning his eyes back to Mr. Jay when it became clear that the General was not going to speak up. When it was clear Alexander would have to fight this particular battle himself.

"He has a letter Al and evidence that he has tried to step in to  take care of you on previous occasions.”

“It is Alexander, not Al.” The teen growled.

“Al..”

“If you have a letter from my mother let me see it.”

“ That not the way this works.”

“I have a right.”

“Not here,”

“I don’t even know him.”

“I am sure that with time….”

“You can’t make me go!” Alexander said his breaths now erratic and his pulse pounding against his ears.

“Yes Al, we can.” Jay said reaching out to place a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. The boy shot up and took a step closer to George eyes searching as he spoke again.

“MY NAME IS ALEXANDER!”

“Son,” George finally spoke up standing straighter, it was a reaction to Alexander’s tone and not any help in the current setting.

“I am not your son.” Alexander whispered voice harsh and biting. The fight drained from his shoulders. It was a knee jerk response to the General’s habit of referring to Alexander by the word son.

“Son,” George whispered.

“I am not your son.” He said louder looking up at George with a guarded expression. George closed his eyes and focused on the picture of Laurence that hung above his desk blinking away the tears that had built up behind his eyes. Wondering once again what advice his older brother would give to him at this moment.  “I am not your son and you are not my father.” Alexander’s voice was stinging. “A father wouldn't let them take me.”

“Alexander, this is not General Washington's decision to make...” Mr. Jay began but he was cut off by a sob ripping itself from Alexander’s chest with the force of a scream.

“You promised.” Alexander wept surging forward and slamming his fists into George’s chest weakly. “You said that I could stay. That I could have a home here and we could possibly be a family. You said that you didn't care about the article. You said that no one could ever make to go.” His pleas were all accentuated by a pound to the chest as the tears fell from his eyes. “You promised,” He hiccuped resting both of his fists on George's chest and clutching at the white button up the man wore.” I hate you” He sobbed punching once again. This time the punch was stronger and George reacted accordingly, “you…. You….” George's arms came to wrap around the boys shoulders and crush him to his chest. Trying to pull him into a hug and provide physical comfort where his words failed him. Alexander pushed back when he felt the pressure and his eyes rose to look at George's face.

“NO!”  His foot stomped against the wooden floor echoing throughout the office. “I HATE YOU!” Alexander repeated. “DO YOU HEAR ME I SAID I HATE YOU!” He said before another sob broke through and he pushed his way past George and to the staircase. He took the stairs two at a time then darted down the second floor hall his loud sounds of his footfalls echoing in the sustained silence. It was not until George heard the slamming of a door did he break from his stupor.

“General Washington,” Jay spoke first stepping toward the staircase as if to follow Alexander up.

“You've done your damage. Now get off of my property.” George said.

 “I will be ‘round to pick up Al at six thirty Sunday morning.” Mr. Jay said with a nod as George flinched.  

“That soon, isn't there normally a process.”

“Like I said, the transition is difficult itself. We find it goes easier when the ties are severed cleanly and quickly.” Mr. Jay twisted on the other side of the door turning to face George for the last time.

“I am sorry General Washington, but this is a happy occasion. It is always our hope to place children with their biological family. This is Al’s best case scenario. He deserves the chance to be with his real family….” Mr. Jay began his sepal for the hundredth time since the meeting started as George shut the door in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. 
> 
> This story should be updated once a month.


	2. There Is Suffering To Terrible To Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert comes home and is confused, and for the first time his limited proficiency in English has almost nothing to do with it.

**there is suffering to terrible to name**

The small rocks that lined the round-a-bout in front of Mt. Vernon where pushed out of the way with a soft ripple as the dark blue ford fusion pulled up to the front door. As soon as the car fully stopped the back door was swung open and Gilbert Lafayette emerged. Speaking very quickly in French thanking the driver for the ride.

 Gilbert was a tall boy, especially for his age and gangly as he had yet to grow into to his long legs and arms. His hair was pulled into a poof at the top of his head. The driver, an older man probably somewhere with in his late sixties spoke back to Gilbert without pause. Wishing the pre-teen, a good weekend before the door shut and the car pulled away.

Gilbert walked to the door with a skip in his step. The unbridled optimism that he was blessed with seeping through every pore of his being and sequentially effecting the world around him.

That is until he opened the front door.

For when he did open the front door he was met with a weighted silence that seemed to clog the air itself making it hard for him to breath normally.

Quickly he sat his book bag down on the long bench that sat across from the stairwell. Then he moved deeper into the house. Pausing at the door to the drawing room, and the sitting room room but continuing once he saw no one was there. Next he looked in on the kitchen. Once again the room was suspiciously empty.

Gilbert’s stomach released itself from its knot and the lump in his throat was swallowed down. He resolved himself to the fact that his Godfather and Alexander must be out in the garden or maybe they ran to the market. After all he had not seen his Godfather’s Bentley in the drive and it was a possibility that it was not in the garage either.

With the weight lifted off his shoulder’s he entered the kitchen and pulled out a glass for orange juice and small bowl of fruit salad. As he sat down on one of the stools and began to eat his after school snack the feeling that something was wrong creeped up on him again. The house still felt wrong. After he finished choking down his snack a washing his dishes he resumed his search around the house.

The dining room was empty as to be expected. For Gilbert, would have could hear his Godfather and Alexander if that were the case. Then he slipped into the small hallway that separated the dining room from George’s office. His original plan was to bypass the office door and move up the stairs into the family room. Alexander spend many hours there writing or reading books. His plan only changed when he heard a hiccuping sob come from the office.

 _‘The office’_ his consciousness finally accepted and his shoulders sagged with the weight of relief. The was a sanctuary for both George and Alexander and one of the few unspoken rules of Mt. Vernon was never to bother either when they were in that room. It was the pair’s sanctuary their place to hide within the house itself, just like how Martha’s office on the third floor acted as a sanctuary to him and was off limits to George and Alexander.

He respected the boundary. He respected both George and Alexander’s need for a place to escape. So despite a want to offer comfort to whomever it was that was upset he knew the closed door was a signal that they wanted privacy.

He twisted and walked up the stairs. Trying not to make too much noise on the staircase as he went. But as always his foot caught the loose board on the sixth step, the sneak step as George called it, and the resulting creek echoed for a minute. 

"Alexander," George's voice sounded desperate as the door to the office swung open and the man twisted to look at the stair case. Upon seeing him Gilbert immediately knew his fears were right and something had happened. George's shirt was loose and wrinkled, his tie was undone, and the sleeves of his button down where rolled up hap-haphazardly. 

"Aucun Père, juste moi."  _No father, just me._ Gilbert said. 

“Gilbert,” He said, with a hard G and enunciated rt that differed from the French pronunciation that he had become accustom to hearing from the man the past few days. His gaze was unfocused and his body tense. His head whipped around to look for a clock as if trying to gage exactly how much time had passed with out his knowledge.

It took him almost fifteen seconds before he realized there was no clock in the hall and glanced down at his wrist to check his watch.

“Is it that late already.” He breathed becoming entranced as he watched the watches minute hand click slowly around the circle.

“Père, y a quelque chose qui ne va pas?” _Father, what is wrong?_ Gilbert asked and Geroge’s dark brown gaze snapped up to meet his godsons. Then after a prolonged glance at the second floor landing he reached out and grasped Gilbert’s shoulder in his large hand.

“Come with me Gilbert, we need to have a talk,” George said as he guided Gilbert back to the office and walked him over to sit in on the couch.

“Où est Alexander,” _Where is Alexander._ Gilbert asked seeing the boys backpack leaned up against the end of the couch. George’s breath caught at the word Alexander and a silent sob forced its way through the large man’s body. He closed his mouth pointedly and shook his head.

“ Père,  est-ce que, est-ce que tout va bien?” _Father, what is wrong, is everything alright._ Gilbert asked moving closer and resting a hand on Geroge’s to offer some comfort. Memories of when Alexander had run away playing over and over in his mind.

“English,” George said his voice sharp and tone cold.

“Where is Alexander?” Gilbert said slowly focusing on his pronunciation and tenses like Mr. De Grasse had been showing him earlier that day.

“Upstairs,” George said and Gilbert let out a weighted sigh. So long as Alexander was still in the house he was certain whatever problem there was that between him and the Washington’s everything would work out. “he is, well that is what we need to talk about.”

“He is no well?”

“Mr. Jay, Alexander’s social worker stopped by this afternoon.”

“Qu'est ce qu'il voulait?” _Why, what did he want._

“Please Gilbert,” George snapped. “English,” He said softer as if noticing that he had snapped and silently apologizing.

“Sorry Père.” Gilbert whispered as his shoulders fell and his head declined.

“No, no I am sorry, today has just….” George began floundering for an excuse for his behavior.  “There is no excuse. I am sorry Gilbert. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“Mr. Jay came to tell us that Alexander’s cousin Peter contacted them.”  

“Cousin?” He questioned as he came across the first word he did not understand.

“An uncles’ child, a relative, um…”

“Family?” Gilbert provided.

“Yes family,”

“Pourquoi...” Gilbert began before realizing he was speaking in French and correcting himself “why,”

“Peter would like Alex to, well you see Gilbert sometimes, sometimes there are… there are things we can’t, there are times what we want and what we….” George spoke fast, his words small but rushed and just complicated enough that Gilbert struggled to understand.

“Jay essaie de m'envoyer, de vivre avec un cousin, un homme que je n'ai jamais rencontré dans ma vie. Et le Général ne l'arrêtera pas. Et il se tint là. Il vient, il ...” _Jay is trying to send me away, to live with some cousin, some man I have never met before in my life. And the General won't stop him. He just stood there. He just, he..._

“Envoi vous loin.” _Sending you away?_

“Oui, il me force à partir rentrée à New York. Mais je n'irai pas. Je ne veux pas. Je ne veux pas. Je veux rester ici avec vous et Docteur Martha et nos amis et ... Je ne veux pas partir. _” Yes, he is forcing me to go back to New York. But I won't go. I won't. I don't want to. I want to stay here with you and Doctor Martha and our friends and.... I don't want to leave._ Alexander was now openly sobbing. Gilbert rushed to his side to pull his elder brother into a hug. Though he was still confused on what exactly was happening he could understand Alexander’s fear.

“Alexander,” George spoke stepping closer to where the pair stood in the doorway of the office.

“Ne me touchez pas. Je te deteste. Je te deteste.” _Don’t touch me. I hate you, I hate you_ Alexander flinched in Gilbert’s grasp. The flinch was violent and ended with a type of tension in Alexander’s shoulders the likes of which Gilbert had not seen since Charles Lee fought him two months ago

“Ne pleure pas mon petit lion. Tout ira bien.” _Don’t cry my little lion. Everything will be alright._ Gilbert smoothed running one hand though Alexander's hair and gathering it over one shoulder. The hair tie Alexander had used that day was now tangled in the edges of his mostly loose locks. With the other hand he rubbed small circles into the teens back trying to chase away the tension with his touch.

“Je ne pleure pas, je crie.” _I am not crying, I am yelling._

“Je crie,” _I am yelling._ Alexander whimpered into his shoulder. Gilbert just whispered reassurances gripping tighter to his shoulder. Gilbert twisted to look at George, the man had his hands gripping tight to the legs of  his pants. His knuckles white and hands clammy.  But he did not seem ready to speak up at all. Gilbert gripped tighter to his elder brother and twisted his gaze back to face him.

“Venez. Montons à l'étage.” _Come on. Let’s go upstairs._

“J'ai voulu saisir mon sac à dos,” _I just wanted my backpack._

“D’accord, d’accord, Je te l'aurai, d'accord?” _Okay, okay_ I will get it for you okay. Gilbert said slipping from Alexander’s vice grip and slipping Alexander's bag, that still laid on the couch in the room and slinging it on his shoulder.

“D’accord.” _Okay_ Gilbert repeated taking Alexander’s arm and leading him back upstairs though the stairwell. When he got up to the second floor landing he lead Alexander into the bedroom. Setting Alexander on the bed and pulling away slowly. Then he tucked the boys backpack on the settee at the edge of his bed and toed off his shoes before laying down and offering his open arms for the older yet smaller boy to crawl into. Alexander did so willingly breaking down once again. Though his tears he attempted to talk, he spoke in a broken form of all five languages he knew. Meaning that at best Gilbert understood 1/8ths Gilbert then proceeded to hum the old lullaby his Grandmere used to sing to him on night when he was particularly upset about something. Soon Alexander’s sobs subsided and he relaxed fully into Gilbert’s embrace.

“T'inquiète pas mon petit, tout va s'arranger.” _Don’t worry my little one, everything will work out._ Gilbert whispered before letting out a long suffering sigh, “tout va s'arranger.” _everything will be alright._ He repeated pressing his face into his brother's hair, even after Alexander's body stilled and the smaller teen gave in to his emotional exhaustion. Gilbert kept whispering, trying to convince himself that he was right and that this was all a just a misunderstanding. 

But there was a feeling curling in Gilbert's abdomen that told him that this was not a misunderstanding. 


	3. You Hold Your Child As Tight As You Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Washington is a saint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to admit right now that I did not proof this before posting and I know it probably isn't my best work. Therefore I may completely rewrite this chapter with in the month. 
> 
> Thank you to all of my readers.

When Mr. Jay had contacted the Washington’s at 10:45 the night before Martha had been the only one awake 

‘New information regarding Alexander’s permanent placement’ is how Mr. Jay had justified the short notice meeting. Martha had been barely able to contain her excitement. For the last few months, since Alexander was first placed in their home for emergency foster placement, Martha and George had been fighting to adopt the young immigrant. Meeting an unbelievable amount resistance every step of the way. Their case had recently gone under review for the umpteenth time earlier in the week, and Martha just knew that this meeting would bring good news. News of progress in regards to paperwork. News that the couple was one step closer to finally having legal papers that stated what Martha had known from the first day she met the then unconscious and half frozen boy. 

Alexander was her child. 

Needless to say, she was less than thrilled when come lunch time she was unable to step away from the hospital to return home for the meeting. Thankfully George was able to get the entire day off and could meet with Jay. Martha had left her husband with specific instructions to call her as soon as he heard the good news.

However, as the clock clicked slowly further and further past the meeting time and the call she was expecting never came though her excited energy transformed into nervous energy that transformed into worry. What if her gut feeling was wrong, what if the news Jay had was not good. What if something had gone wrong. 

As she walked in the house the silence that surrounded her solidified her fears as instead of finding the males grouped together in the kitchen or dining room she found Geroge alone seated on the couch of all things with his head cradled between two hands and an air of defeat around him. 

“I take it Jay’s news wasn’t what we wanted to hear.” 

“Martha, Is it that late already?” George said bouncing to his feet and looking around for the clock. 

“Yes, it is that late George.” 

“I was going to call.” George said sinking back down into the couch, Martha watched in surprise. 

“You were.” 

“I…..”

“I take it the news wasn’t what we wanted to hear.” Martha repeated fairly certain that George had not heard her the first time as he had yet to address it. 

“No,” He said with a huffed breath that seemed to physically affect him. “Far from it.” 

“Well,” she took a deep breath sinking down into the chair across from the desk. “Let’s regroup and figure out what to do.” 

“There is nothing we can do.” George frowned and his shoulders slumped down. Martha raised one eyebrow in question. George was normally the type of person who always had an action plan. “They found a family member.  A cousin. Jay wants to transfer him this weekend.” 

“George.” Martha’s breath caught and she pushed forward to sit on edge of the chair her hand pushed forward to rest palm up on George’s desk. 

“I tried to talk Jay out of it but he was… he was set.” George said his voice chillingly calm as his body hitched forward. He pushed himself to his feet and walked away from the desk. Martha slowly pulled her hand back. The reality of the situation falling on her shoulders. 

“I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

“Where is Alex now?” Martha asked pushing herself to her own feet gripping the desk for support. 

“I am sorry.” 

“George!” Martha said this time a little bit stronger than the last. “Where is Alexander?” 

“Upstairs.”

Martha Washington rushed up the back stairwell taking them as fast as she could and at times skipping a step completely as she tried to bridge the gap between herself and what she could only imagine was a distraught Alex. 

When she finally stopped in front of the door she took a calming breath before placing her right hand on the door knob knocking on the plywood as she pushed the door open.  Inside she saw Alexander being pinned against Gilbert’s chest his body being wracked with sobs. 

“Maman” Gilbert said his voice heavy with tears. Martha took a few steps in and sat on the edge of the bed reaching out on hand to rub against Gilbert’s upper thigh and Alexander’s arm. She didn't speak she just sat there and comforted her boys as best as she could. It did not take long for Alexander to push himself from Gilbert’s embrace and into Martha’s with a sob of “I don’t want to go.” 

“Sushhhh,” Martha said crushing the boy against her chest. Gilbert looked at her so many questions swarming though her gaze that she was at a loss to try and decipher. She knew that both of the boys were on the verge of a breakdown and as much as she wanted to take one in each arm and hold them though this pain she knew it wasn’t feasible. She needed to comfort Alexander. Give the boy strength and conviction to face this new life he was stepping into. Then she could focus on helping Gilbert cope with the loss they endured. 

Catching the French Preteen’s dark brown eyes she made her glance impassive and then twisted her head to indicate the door. Understanding the silent request Gilbert rubbed Alex’s back one last time then stepped out of the room. 

Martha let out a long suffering sigh and shifted her focus to most pressing matter. 

Alexander.  pushing the boy back slightly to catch the boys tears against her thumb. “I don’t want to go. Please. I don’t want to.” Alex whimpered. 

“I know dear. I know.” She said pulling his head back to her chest and dragging her fingers through his hair. 

“Do I have to…” 

“Yes, and as much as I wish that it was in my power to tell Jay where he could stuff his transfer papers I can’t, and I think that you know that. But right now you are hurting. You are hurting and that’s okay.” She cooed her hand moving down to rub against the boy's back as she spoke. 

“It isn’t fair.” Alex exclaimed pushing away from her embrace and crossing his arms against his chest. His mouth falling into a pout. “I want to stay with you and Gilbert. Not move to New York and some cousin I have never met.” 

“I know dear, I know.” Martha whispered. 

  
“It isn’t fair!” He said punching at the mattress with his closed fists.

  
“Life is many things Alex, fair is not one of them." Martha said slowly leading the boy back into her arms, holding on as tight as she could, as she lay down against his comforter.

  
"I don't want to go." Alexander repeated. Martha just nodded and tried to tighten her arms around the boys shoulders. Holding on as she helped him cope with the unimaginable. 


	4. And Push Away The Unimaginable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander Reflects.

The Moments When You’re In So Deep

It was still dusk, but as usual when dealing with time sensitive and pressing problems, Alexander could not stay asleep. After resting for an hour in the arms of Dr.  Washington he was on his feet and slipping away careful not to wake Dr. Washington as he moved from the room. He also took care not to wake Gilbert as he slipped down the main staircase and out of the front door. He cared deeply for both, but at the times when his brain buzzed and his body refused to still he did not seek their company. He did not want to burden them with more of his problems than they need be aware of. Especially not when his place with them was vanishing fast like it was now.

Normally he seeked out the General. After years in the military the General had his own abnormal sleep patterns as he fought of his own demons. The pair would spend most their insomnia riddled nights cohabitating in the General’s study. Alexander curling around a notebook as the General poured over whatever project he worked on. Be it for the military or the farm. But after yesterday Alexander had no intention of seek the General out.

The property that surrounded the majority of Mt. Vernon’s land was densely populated by trees baring the small strips of cleared land that served as pathways for off road vehicles and trails for horseback riders. Alexander padded down the most direct path between the house and the Warf huddling a thin hoodie around him to block the child wind and kicking at a small circular stone as he went.  

The Warf was one of Alexander’s favorite out buildings on the property. It reminded him of Nevis. Of the sea walls he teetered along when he was very young, hand clutching at his mother’s arm and laughter bubbling in his throat. If he kept his eyes on the water long enough he could almost fool himself into believing he was back on Nevis. That everything had been a fever dream and that James, His mother, and himself were all safe and were still a family.

The escape was nice for a moment. But soon reality snapped back in full force and reminded him that the life he reminisced in was tainted by the rose colored glasses children wear. That as many good memories of the sea crashing around his feet he recalled there were memories of hunger curling in his stomach. That as many times as longed for the lost sound of his mother’s lullabies they were often coupled with her broken sobs as she struggled to keep any form of income in the house.

Shaking his head Alexander lowered himself to sit on the edge of the Warf and leaned over to watch the dark water lap at the structure below him. Rubbing at his teary eyes first with his index and pointer fingers then with his palms.

It had been almost six months since he last longed for Nevis with the bone deep sorrow and all-encompassing anger that afflicted him now. Six months since he longed for the smell of salt soaked air, the sound his mother’s off key, and the crooning and his brother’s heavy hands.

The Washington’s helped him move past that, who had taught him to channel his grief into something productive. It was Dr. Washington and her strong and soft presence that coaxed him into writing down his memories. Into using his words to craft a palace for his past in both prose and paragraphs. It had been the General who taught him how to control his anger. It was the General who had roused him at four thirty each morning in those early weeks and ran with him and the hounds. At first the runs where short bursts followed by longer walks in where the General would allow Alexanderto rant. Where the man would give up his solace and silence for the inner ramblings of Alexander’s mind. But in the wake of Mr. Jay and the knowledge that this home was being ripped from Alexander’s grasp sorrow and anger had returned in full force.

The sound of foot falls in the distance behind him made Alexandercurl his legs up onto the wharf ledge, then wrap his arms around himself in a hug to try and disappear against the horizon.

Alexander knew that the sound came curtesy of the general. Due in part to the accompanying the foot falls were the sounds of barks and yelps from the hounds coming back from their morning run, and in part to the fact that the footsteps were going toward the house not away from it.

As the footsteps fell closer the noise of the dogs did as well, soon the hounds were upon him. Vulcan taking point as the large dog pushed himself into Alexander’s lap making the boy unfurl from his previously closed off sitting position to flop ungracefully over Alex’s lap.

Sweet Lips took it upon herself to deal with the previously unnoted tear tracks that stained Alex’s cheeks .Wiping them away with the care that came with a name like Sweet Lips.  Taster, Tipsy, and Madam Moose all circled him as well.

A heat fell against Alexander’s back and the teen could feel a pair of eyes boring into him and a strong form looming over him. A small part of Alexander wanted to surge to his feet before burying his head in the General’s chest. Letting out all of his everything though body raking sobs and loosely curled fists. This was also the part of Alexander who still held tight to the belief that somehow if he trusted them enough the Washington’s could save him like they had the times before. This part was outnumbered by the part that held on to the feeling of rejection and abandonment of yesterday. His pettiness won out in the end. If the General wanted a chance to bridge the gap Alexander leaving created he was going to have to reach out first.  

The man did not.

The General stood stoic as ever watching the back of Alexander’s head for almost a half hour before letting out a weighted sigh and walking away with heavy foot falls.

It was not until he was up the path a bit that he whistled for the hounds to return to his side. Most of the hounds took off without second thought. Returning to the General like they were trained too. Sweet Lips lingered for a moment licking at Alexander one more time and letting out a soft whine before running back up the path.

Vulcan moved only to present his belly to the introspective teen.

“You should mind you know,” Alexandersaid as he rubbed at the dogs chest, Vulcan let out a singular bark before allowing his tongue to fall out of the side of his mouth.

“Disgusting,” Alexandersaid as a glob of dog spit landed on his pant leg. He pushed at Vulcan playfully thankful when the dog rolled back over and rested his chin on Alexander’s lap letting out another low whine as if attempting to start a conversation with Alex.

The fact that whine pulled the whole story out of Alexanderwas probably testament to the fact that Alexanderneeded someone to vent to.

Alexanderdid not know how long he was out on the edge of Warf slowly petting the crown of Vulcan’s head.

“Mon petit lion, il fait froid. Notre mère s'inquiète, viendrez-vous à l'intérieur maintenant?” _My small lion, it is cold. Our mother worries, will you come inside now?_ Gilbert asked not long after the sun rose over the horizon. Standing to Alexander’s left side. From the corner of his eye he could see Gilbert fluffy pajama pants and the edge of his robe.

Alexander did not react to Lafayette’s presence. Or at least did not react any further than slipping to the side and allowing Gilbert space to sit down next to him.

A slim arm wrapped its way around Alexander’s shoulders and the smaller teen leaned against the taller pre-teen. Gilbert took into account

“Tout va bien?” _Are you alright?_ Gilbert said his voice not holding its usual vibrato. As if the boy was worried that speaking loudly would upset the boy next to him would break.

“Always.” Alexander said after too much time had passed. Gilbert just pulled the boy closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not uploading the past few months. I should be back on track to upload once a month now.


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